Hybrid
by Aeryn Lavanthia
Summary: Something is hunting hybrids on the streets of LA...
1. Something wicked

_Greetings! After a long hiatus I am back to writing. (God help us…)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Angel or its characters. That honour belongs to the great man himself, Joss Whedon._

Chapter One: Something Wicked…

It was dark in the alley where she hid, crouching behind the dumpster in the humid L.A heat, her breath coming out in short ragged gasps. It was nearby; she could smell it, and it was angry. So far she had managed to avoid its wrath but now, trapped with nowhere to run; she was becoming less hopeful this time. The demon was approaching, ready to tear out of her that which she cherished above all things. She couldn't let that happen, not now, not when she was so close, so very close. Swallowing the rising panic in her gut, the small, damp figure dashed out into the busy streets and away from the lurking death hidden in the shadows behind.

* * *

"You know George Clooney?" Doyle was peering over Cordelia's shoulders as she typing slowly, but diligently, at the keyboard. Angel Investigations was nearing the end of yet another non-profitable day and so their reluctant secretary had decided to put her time to better use for the moment.

"Not exactly," Cordelia shrugged, "but I did meet the guy who cuts his lawn at a party the other night. That's pretty close, right?"

Doyle gave a wry laugh, "Whatever you say Princess, it's not what you know but who you know after all"

"In your case, that doesn't leave you with much does it?" She mumbled.

He faked a hurt look and puffed out his chest in an attempt to impress her. "I'll have you know I'm on very good terms with the guy from…that soap opera…the day-time one" It was a weak try and he knew it.

She gave a characteristic snort and rolled her eyes at him, "Oooohhh interesting! I'll let you know if I ever want to meet a nobody."

Doyle was about to come back with a witty remark when a voice spoke from the other room; confusion evident in the tone.

"You two still here?" Angel had wandered in from his office, a tatty novel held in his hands. The vampire with a soul had an unusual habit of walking around whilst reading; his co-workers often remarked that it was a miracle he never walked into anything.

"Glad to see you fully appreciate us there boss" Doyle quipped, his tone implying that, yes, he did have better things to do; even though all three of them knew that was a lie.

Angel shot him an apologetic look, "Sorry, seems like a while since we've left the office." Typically uncomfortable making small talk, Angel was obviously in a good mood and sidled over to the computer, peering over Cordeila's shoulder at the screen, "You know Michael Douglas? Doesn't he live in England?"

"I think it's Wales actually, my celebrity starved fri…" Doyle began but the vision, like every one since they had begun, hit without as much as a by-your-leave. Various piles of paper and notes flew in the air as Doyle's body took leave of its senses and he was vaguely aware of strong hands gripping his shoulders and halting his collapse. The small office was drowned out as the flood of images and sounds rushed into his brain, pulsing in his ears and rolling his eyes up into his skull. There was a flash, like lighting and something, a silhouette, was illuminated by the brief light. A growl, or thunder, boomed in the spiralling whirl and he could hear screaming, raw and animalistic, then the smell of something metallic assaulted him, images of red smears on an iron door the last thing he saw before the darkness began to fade. Unfortunately, the pain did no such thing and the fervent voices he was hearing on the edge of his consciousness were doing nothing to help.

"Doyle? Doyle? You okay?" The fuzzy form of Angel's concerned face swam into view, a cup of what he hoped was whiskey held out in front.

"Yeah, yeah…I think" He accepted the drink with a pained grin before necking the contents. Although the pain didn't ease, the bitter taste that was left in his mouth from the vision evaporated.

"What did you see?" The concerned note never left the vampire's voice.

Doyle gave him a half-lidded look, "A whole heap of trouble."

* * *

Their march down the darkened L.A alleyways would have been a lot more impressive if it hadn't been absolutely pouring down with rain. And not that movie-style rain where the heroes look damp and alluring as they stride down mist-swept streets. No, this was city rain; dirty, heavy and not flattering in the slightest.

Cordelia's face alone would have told anyone who came across her that this was not a good look for anyone, even soulful, broody vampires. '_Why they couldn't have just driven around in the warm and dry of Angel's car'_ she thought miserably. It also didn't help that her two fellow 'demon hunters' were on a mission and were streaking ahead of her as she stumbled across the slick tarmac.

The drive had started out rather unfocused, with Angel in the driver's seat and Doyle reeling off directions from the back. He had chosen to lie down for the moment, with a bottle of aspirin and an ice pack, in an attempt to ease the pounding in his head. He didn't need to see where they were going, as he insisted that he'd just know when they were close to whatever it was they were hunting. After about an hour of aimlessly cruising down busy roads, he'd sat bolt upright and, despite the obvious pain just caused to himself, shot out of the car as they pulled up at a light.

"I thought that was your bit?" Cordelia had asked, without getting a response as Angel tore out of the car after the Irishman, "I'll park the car then shall I?" She called after the fleeting figure, "Don't mind me, I'll catch up later…alone…unarmed!"

It actually didn't take long at all to find a spot; a grocery store just round the corner had a virtually deserted lot and she was able to rejoin her wayward group in a matter of minutes. She was utterly soaked through by the time she reached them; standing as they were at the mouth of a particularly dark and long alley.

Angel turned as she approached, casting a quizzical look over her drenched appearance, "You could have stayed in the car y'know?"

She wished he was alive so she could kill him, "Oh gee thanks for the info! I'm surprised you haven't run for cover to protect your hair"

The look on his face made her believe that he'd momentarily forgotten his wet locks and now seemed a little upset, "Does it look bad?" Cordelia refused to reply but gave him an annoyed grunt instead before moving past him to join Doyle further up the alley.

He was standing quite still, peering through the torrents of water whilst trying to keep the drops out of his eyes with his left hand. "I think it's here" He didn't sound too sure.

Fed up with being cold and wet, Cordelia took charge, turning to Angel, "Well? What are you waiting for, go kill it so we can go home"

Angel chose to ignore Cordelia's marching orders for the sake of an argument and instead turned to the smaller man by his side, "Doyle?"

At first he thought the half-demon hadn't heard him over the downpour but, without taking his eyes off the dark stretch before them, he whispered over the rain, "It's down there alright."

Right, location sorted. Now onto the important part, "Still no clue what it is exactly?"

Doyle shook his head; droplets flying off his hair and dripping into his eyes. "Nope, but be careful all the same"

Angel gave a nod and began walking steadily down the darkened passageway; water sloshing around his feet and trickling down his back. He was briefly thankful that he was already dead and cold, otherwise he'd be freezing. A vindictive little portion of his brain remembered his two sodden friends stationed behind him in the icy downpour and he smirked slightly.

Through the heavy rain and biting wind, he could make out a large door at the end of the alley. It seemed to be the entrance to one of the many warehouses that were scattered about Los Angeles, but obviously had been out of service for quite a while; rust and decay marked its surface and the handle was broken off. As Angel approached, the sinking feeling in his gut increased as he noted that some of the slowly fading stains were not rust, but blood.

'_This must be Doyle's secret door.' _Fortunately the missing handle didn't really pose a problem as the metal was pretty warped, allowing the vampire to pry his hands into a gap and begin wrenching it open. It creaked and moaned at the assault, growing louder the harder he pulled…_'That doesn't sound like a door…'_

The figure barrelled out of the darkness to his right, knocking him away and into a trio of trash cans. Through the clatter he thought he heard Cordelia shout his name but the bulky mass had already advanced on him. Grabbing him by the lapels of his coat, it lifted and hurled Angel further down the alley and away from the door. _'All the more reason for me to get in there' _he thought briefly before connecting with the slick asphalt.

Leaping to his feet faster than any human ever could, Angel rounded on the figure, taking in its appearance in the dim light. It really was _huge_; dark red in colour with muscled arms as thick as tree branches and legs to match. Long tendrils of what might have been hair trailed down from its head, reaching right to his knees. Small, beady eyes shone out with a blue light from under a heavy brow. The snarling noise it made sounded like a bag of rocks falling down a well; a deep throaty noise that made the hairs on the backs of his hands stand on end.

Without skipping a beat it launched another attack, its massive clawed hands sweeping out in huge arches, attempting to slice the vampire in half. The lunges were strong but clumsy and Angel took the advantage and dived in close, avoiding the razor-sharp claws and landing a hard right on the demon's face.

The blow caught it off guard and it staggered briefly before swinging out again, knocking its assailant away. A thunderous roar burst from its throat and Angel half expected another attack but was surprised to see the beast dash away from the fight, heading for the exit. He took pursuit but he was waterlogged, his clothes weighing him down. The demon however, clothed only in a crude sort of loincloth, was racing ahead, remarkably fast for its hulking mass. Up ahead, Angel saw Doyle leap out and attempt to clobber the fleeing demon with a wooden plank but was easily knocked aside. The demon raced ahead and straight out into the street, leaving Angel to stare as it bounded across the lanes of traffic, causing the cars to swerve and skid on the wet road before it crashed through a fence on the opposite side…and vanished.

Slowing from his dash, Angel reached his two soggy companions as Cordelia was helping Doyle pick himself up off the floor, a nice round bruise blossoming over his left eye. "That went well" he drawled sarcastically.

Angel began rubbing his shoulder where the demon had tackled him, it throbbed but wasn't broken. "I think we've found our demon. I think we should go and see what he was so keen to protect."

They approached the door as a group, Doyle and Cordelia hanging back to allow Angel room to yank open the rusted metal. Accepting a flashlight from Cordelia with a smile Angel shone the beam into the inky black, showing stone walls and wooden boxes illuminated by the yellow light. Taking a quick sniff of the air, Angel was confident that they were the only ones around, but in that same moment he recognised the familiar scent of blood. Casting a quick look back at his co-workers he stepped into the room in the direction of the gore he knew was there.

"Oh sure, this is how I wanted to spend my evening. I could have been networking at April's birthday party, or hitting the night-life or doing something that normal people do but no, I have to be picking my way through a demon's dirty laundry…" Cordelia's dry tone cut through the gathering dark, her ramblings distracting her so much that she walked straight into Angel's back when he abruptly stopped, "What the…?"

She peered over his shoulder and gasped softly at the scene in front of her. Blood adorned the wall and floor, great swathes of the crimson liquid splashed across the boxes and crates like a finger-painting session gone horribly wrong. Amongst the pools, she could just about make out the shapes of what looked like body parts; an arm and both legs, a hand and, was that part of a head? Gross!

"We're too late" Angel's comment sounded hollow, pained. He suddenly rounded on Doyle, who was taking in the carnage with a sickened grimace, "How can we be too late?"

The accusatory tone was not lost on the Irishman, who lifted his head sharply to meet his boss' eyes, "I don't know! The vision led me here and we left straight away. I don't understand why they'd send us just to find…this." Hearing the hopelessness in his friends' voice, Angels' stern gaze softened and he placed a hand on Doyle's shoulder apologetically.

"Hey guys, I think I've found our 'why'" Cordelia's voice drew their gaze to where she was shining the flashlight she'd relieved from Angel's grasp and found themselves looking at a huddled bloodstained figure with wide brown eyes, whimpering in the dark.

* * *

_It's been a long time and I may be a touch rusty. Any beta readers out there who want to give me a hand with the following chapters are very welcome._

_If you fancy giving a review, there's the button…_


	2. Restless

A/N: Just to clarify, this story takes place in Season One, after _Lonely Hearts _and before _Hero_.

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

* * *

The smell of bargain coffee wafted around Angel's office as the drenched huddled form sipped quietly at the polystyrene cup, thankful for the distraction away from the three pairs of eyes fixed upon her. Sitting opposite was a tall dark figure with a creased brow and a deep stare. He wore a black ensemble that appeared to match the colour of his eyes and she couldn't shake the impression that he was looking a little deeper than most would.

To her left, perched on the desk top was younger man with green eyes. The accent denoted an Irish heritage but the look was purely L.A; a battered leather jacket over a dark blue shirt and dark jeans. The look was softer than his companion but there was still the feeling of scrutiny in his dark features. Lastly there was the slim brunette sat in the chair next to her, scribbling notes down in a dog-eared yellow pad. Hair piled up in a loose pony tail, she gave the impression of looking great without even trying, but the wide smile she wore did nothing elevate the visitor's apprehension at the groups' stoic silence.

"So, Miss Yeva, what happened in that warehouse?" The catalogue model opposite spoke up and she couldn't help but swallow visibly in his presence. The action didn't not go unnoticed and his hard gaze softened somewhat, "There's no need to be afraid. We're here to help you."

"At a very competitive fee of course" The brunette piped up, but the quick glance from her employer stopped any further interruptions. She felt a pang of sympathy for the other girl, not wishing to cause conflicts when she'd only been there fifteen minutes,

"It's just Yeva and I can pay you, that's no problem…" Her voice trailed off, maybe this was a mistake?

The Irishman picked up for her, "So, what is the problem?"

She took another sip of her lukewarm coffee before replying, "I'm not even sure you can help me. I mean, I've heard things, about what you do, but I wasn't even sure it was true. It all sounds so crazy."

The first man, surely the 'Angel' of Angel Investigations, spoke again. "Just start at the beginning and we'll see what we can do."

Taking yet another steeling gulp of the bitter liquid from the cup in her hand she began, "It started about a month ago, after I moved to L.A. Nothing much at first, shadows in alleys and noises in parking lots, that sort of thing. But then, recently, it got worse. Something was following me and I really didn't think it was your run-of-the-mill stalker"

"What makes you say that?" The girl, Cordelia, had adopted the same frown as her boss.

"Well, firstly, you should see the state my car is in. The police said it was vandals but seriously, unless they were equipped with chainsaws, I really doubt it. There's other things too, growls in the dark when I'm walking home, strange smells hanging around my apartment doorway, stuff like that."

Doyle gave her a quizzical look, "Smells? What kind?"

Yeva turned her eyes on him, frowning in thought, "Um…I'm not really sure. It's not something most people would pick up; just a scent I know shouldn't be there."

At the mention of scents, both men in the room leaned forward slightly, suddenly more interested. Angel spoke first, "Scent, not smell?"

Cordelia's voice denoted her confusion, "Aren't they the same thing?" But Angel's stare never left their clients face.

"Not really," Yeva continued. "Anyway yesterday I decided enough is enough. I was sick of running straight home each night out of fear. So when I thought I saw it, I followed. Wish I hadn't though; it led me straight to that bloodbath. It was coming for me when you showed up." She gazed up through eyes smeared with mascara, "I didn't thank you for that by the way."

Angel gave her what he hoped was a non-intimidating smile, "It's what I do." Doyle coughed in the background and he added, "What _we_ do."

Yeva flashed him a weak smile but her eyes turned serious moments later, "You know why I've come to you don't you? You know that the police can't help me, not that they would believe me anyway. Even if they did get over the whole 'demon' thing, I'm not really comfortable with them. Old habits I guess"

Angel caught the meaning in her words and simply asked, "What are you?" Blunt. At least it saved time.

"Angel?" Cordelia, embarrassed at her boss's outburst, sounded unusually shrill in the quiet office, "I'm sorry, he can be a bit rude sometimes, I blame his wardrobe…"

The other girl cut her off, "It's okay, he's obviously good at his job. And he's right; I'm not really what I appear. I mean, I am human, for a part. Half a part that is, my father's half. I…um…" Her uncomfortable moment was eased by Doyle who stepped in to finish,

"You're half demon?"

She nodded. "Trellick demon."

"You're a demon!" Their conversation had obviously breezed past far too quickly and casually for Cordelia, who was suddenly looking rather nervous.

Yeva nodded, "A half-demon, it's not that uncommon. I mean, I would have thought you'd be used to it after all…" She turned to address Doyle as he stood near the desk, expecting a look of amusement on his face but instead caught only a brief look of panic.

The sentence died on her tongue but Cordelia had already latched on to the exchange, "After all what? I know we may deal in the slightly strange but we're typically more on the human side of things"

"I'm sorry, I only meant that you must see weird things every day," Yeva recovered quickly. "I must be pretty low down on your freaky-meter." She dared a look at Doyle again and hoped she hadn't just overstepped a line.

* * *

With the now-dry and clean client, who was currently catching a nap on the sofa in the front room, Angel, Cordelia and Doyle had sequestered in the boss's office, attempting to dry themselves off.

"So, we have a big angry demon that's hunting a half-demon for god-knows-what-reason and Angel just made him mad. Well, madder" Cordelia tossed her now damp towel onto the back of her chair, gesturing to her boss with her free hand.

"Mad or not," Angel frowned, "That thing needs stopping."

"So I take it we hit the books, find out what it is and then send Angel to finish up?" Doyle chimed in.

The vampire looked slightly insulted at being spoken about in the third person, "I'm not a maid service you know."

Cordelia snorted, "Too bad, you'd probably bring in more money than you do now. And speaking of which, not that I'm sorry about the money we'll get for this, but are we sure we want to help? I mean, she's a demon!"

"Half-demon, princess, there's a difference" Doyle interjected.

"What difference? For all we know this is some demon dispute that is best sorted out between themselves."

Angel could see Doyle struggling to keep his temper in check, after all, it wasn't Cordelia's fault she didn't know about his 'other' side. He interjected on his friend's behalf before things got heated. "That thing out there is killing people who are half human too remember? People with families and lives to live."

He turned to Doyle once Cordelia seemed to quieten, "I think you should go and do a little reconnaissance. Ask around and see if any other demons or half-demons have been having similar problems. Maybe there's a connection? Plus this demon is not exactly crowd-friendly, someone must know where its hiding." Doyle nodded in response, hefted his jacket off the hook and was gone.

"And me?" Cordelia piped up.

"You get the books." She gave him a 'yippee-for-me' sarcastic grin, "And watch Yeva, keep her here for now until we get a lock on this demon. Try and see if you can get anything else out of her."

He rose and headed for the elevator shaft. Cordelia called out after him before the doors slid shut, "Wait, where are you going, aren't you going to help me?"

"I need to make a stop first." And he was gone.

* * *

The precinct was busy, as usual. Angel worked his way across the room, skirting the various ne'er-do-well's that were being herded by the officers of the LAPD, most of them contesting their innocence as they went.

Kate Lockley was sitting at her desk, her pale blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail as she leaning over the wad of papers in front of her. Absentmindedly, she chewed viciously on her pen, the fingers of her free hand drumming on the varnished wood and a cold cup of coffee sat nearby. So absorbed in her work, she didn't even look up at Angel as he approached, forcing him to cough slightly to receive attention.

"Angel." She attempted to hide the surprise in her voice, hoping he wouldn't mistake it for embarrassment, "What brings you here?"

His grim face told her it wasn't a pleasure call, "I need your help"

She'd heard it all before, but for some strange reason, it didn't matter. "What's up?"

The man took the seat next to her and leaned in close, like a lover going for a kiss.

'_Stop it Kate Lockley, stop it right now!'_ Her inner voice berated.

He continued, oblivious to her musings, "I need some information, anything on any recent murders that are unsolved and seemed very…unusual" He stumbled slightly over the last word, as if thinking that it didn't quite fit.

Kate straightened in her chair at the mention of murder, "Unusual how? And what have you got to do with it?"

"Unusual like over-the-top violence and no suspects." He replied, ignoring her second question. "Bodies torn apart, like an animal attack"

She gave him a deeply quizzical frown, the intense look in his eyes echoing his determination, "How did you know about them?"

"So, there have been others?" he asked.

She wasn't sure she liked where this was headed. "Angel, you know I can't give you case information, but if you know something you have to tell me"

"Please Kate; I just need to see the files, only for a second."

It was the please that caught her attention, guessing that the haunted twist on his face was something other than needing information. "Alright."

She stood up and he followed her down to one of the side offices, stepping to one side as she locked the door behind her. "If anyone asks, we're making out."

"Sure," he smirked, a smile spreading across his face.

The amused half-grin stayed with him as Lockley heaved a cardboard box off of the shelf and dumped it onto the small table. As she lifted out file after file, Angel scooped one up and flicked it open. The image of blood was the first thing he saw; a crime scene photo of a murder dated two weeks ago, in an alleyway near the dockland. The victim had been ripped apart and only a hand and a few entrails had remained, the rest either taken or eaten by the various night-time creatures of L.A. _'And I don't think it was just rats'_ Angel thought grimly.

"This starting to looking familiar?" Kate was hovering at his shoulder, "There's five more, all the same M.O, different location each time and no evidence of the killer that we can find. So, what's your angle?"

"There's six now" His statement dropped like a stone in the small room.

Kate visibly swallowed, mental images already playing through her mind. "Where?"

"An abandoned warehouse on sixth and Weston. I found it last night, exactly the same." He left out Yeva, feeling that the hybrid wouldn't want the police on her case as well as the demon.

"I'll get a team down there, see what we can find." Kate sighed, a headache forming behind her eyes.

"Make sure you go in the day." Angel added softly.

She was sure the simple sentence was weighted with some more than friendly concern. "Why?"

"Because there's a better chance you won't run into what did this. I've seen it Kate, and it's not something you can handle." The moment he said it, he knew he should have rephrased it.

Her face turned stony and her voice took on a hard edge, "How dare you tell me what I can or can't handle! In case you hadn't noticed Angel, I'm a police officer and have been for quite some time. I know how to do my job."

He didn't doubt that for a second. "I know."

Somehow the soft words dissolved her anger pretty quickly but she still knew where she stood.

She sighed, not in the mood for a fight with a friend. "Look, I'll do my job and you do yours. I know I won't be able to convince you to stay out of it but believe me Angel, if you interfere with my investigation I will be forced to stop you."

He didn't doubt that either.

* * *

Sorry for the delay, and the short chapter, but work keeps stealing all my free time.

Thanks for reading. Reviews make me so happy and I welcome all constructive feedback. Let me know if there's room for improvement!


	3. Little drops

Disclaimer: See chapter one. 

* * *

"Can I help?" The voice startled Cordelia out of her stupor as she gazed at the seemingly endless stream of text. Yeva was standing in front of her, twisting her hands in a mousey, twitchy sort of way, "Want me to look too?"

"Sure." Cordelia inwardly winced at her own tone, the short word sounding sharp on her tongue. The foul mood she was in wasn't the girl's fault, she was tired and still cold from their earlier soaking. In a feeble attempt to alleviate her guilt, she passed one of the books from her pile, flashing a professional, yet tight smile.

They carried on the tedious task of research in relative silence, the only noise coming from the clink of coffee mugs as they were emptied and refreshed. A heavy sigh from Yeva soon denoted boredom had finally set in.

"So, you guys do this for a living? Helping people from demons and such?" She leaned her head in the crook of her arm and gazed lazily at her companion, trying to make eye contact.

Without looking up, Cordelia answered, "Yup, we're regular superheroes. Poor superheroes that have cheap coffee and obviously no social lives to speak of." That hard tone was still in her voice and this time Yeva caught it.

"You don't like me do you?" The blunt statement caught Cordelia off guard and she looked up sharply, "Or at least, you don't like half of me."

Cordelia almost shot out a retort denying any such prejudice but quickly swallowed it. Now that it had been actually said, she realised that, perhaps, there was something within her that shied away from the half-demon.

It wasn't a conscious thing, she barely even knew it was there but nevertheless it was, and Yeva had called her on it. This time when she looked up the smile was genuine. "Sorry. Guess that's not really doing anything for our image of helping the helpless is it?"

The hard look in the other girl's eyes softened. "It's understandable."

Cordelia put the book she was reading down. "But it's not forgivable, I just need to open my mind a little more, something which you'd think living on a Hellmouth for most of my life would have done." The humour in her voice eased the two into something resembling friendly chatter and then spent the next hour discussing Sunnydale, witches, werewolves and, much to Cordelia's surprise, Bloomingdale's summer sales.

They remained like that until Doyle arrived, slightly damp from the retreating rain. The torrents had trickled down to a drizzle, so now the city was bathed in a misty grey haze.

"Having fun ladies?" Cordelia could see he was obviously wishing he'd opted for research instead of trailing around the demon bars and hangouts, talking to some unsavoury characters, and avoiding others, for information on the rogue demon attacker. He shook his head and droplets flew across the two seated on the sofa, causing Cordelia to jump up and smack him on the arm.

"What are you? A Labrador?" she squealed. "Just because _we_ don't look like drowned rats, there's no need to soak us too."

"Sorry Princess, didn't want you feeling left out" Behind them, Yeva giggled and Doyle used the distraction to scoot around the desk before he received another slap.

Decided that she was far too classy to pursue him, Cordelia merely returned to the sofa, feeling vindicated. "So, did your oh-so-seedy friends tell you anything about our demon?"

"Not really." He looked disappointed, "Well, nothing solid anyway. There definitely been some happenings, a few people missing, and all half-demons, I might add. No one seems to know exactly what's doing it but their pretty scared by the whole thing"

The news wasn't really a comfort, but Cordelia gave him a smile anyway, "Well, back to the books then. You can help."

He pulled a face, "Oh joy!"

They weren't at it for long before Cordelia gave a yelp, startling Yeva and causing Doyle to spill his coffee.

Ignoring his irritated look, she dumped the large book into the centre of the desk. "Sorry, but I think I've found it." She placed the large book on the desk and stepped back slightly to let the others look. On the page was a sketch of their demon in all its muscled glory. Underneath was a couple of sentences but the language was unfamiliar.

"Any guesses what that says?" Doyle piped up.

Cordelia shrugged, "I was hoping you'd know."

He shook his head, hair now dry and slightly fluffy. "Not a clue." He shot a look at Yeva, "Any ideas?"

The girl simply shrugged, "Don't look at me. I can barely speak my own name in any other language."

Cordelia let out a frustrated sigh, "Guess we wait for Angel then."

"Wait for me why?" The vampire smiled at the collective jump he received at his subtle arrival, his undead skills allowing him to enter the room unnoticed.

Cordelia gave him a hard glare, "That's it; no more sneaking around! I'm getting you a bell!"

Doyle nodded in agreement, "You almost gave me a heart attack man!" He clutched at his chest in mock pain.

Angel smiled again, not sorry in the slightest. "Sorry, what's up?"

Cordelia passed him the book, "It's our demon, but we can't read what it says about it."

The vampire studied the page for a second before speaking, "It's a Gruagach demon, found in South America primarily, mountain-dwellers, very strong and typically a...oh…" He paused, frowning.

Doyle leaned over his shoulder, "What is it?"

Angel continued, "It says here that this demon is typically a protector of cattle, normally peaceful, though can be defensive if threatened."

Cordelia's confusion was evident in her voice, "Cattle, as in cows? That doesn't make sense. Why would a cow demon attack people? Oh! Unless they were rustling the demon's cattle! Like in those old Western movies."

Doyle gave her a lopsided smile, "Princess, I find it a tad difficult to believe there are cattle rustlers in L.A. Hell, I'm not even sure there _are_ cows in L.A"

"Have we got the wrong demon then?" Yeva asked, taking the book from Angel, "Oh, definitely not. I never forget someone who tries to eviscerate me." She handed it back, a little green around the gills.

Cordelia sighed, "So, we have a protector of cows attacking people…for reasons best known to itself. It sounds like this case is definitely up our street – it makes no sense!"

Angel frowned, unable to disagree with her statement, "Well, it doesn't matter. We need to stop it. I talked to Kate, this isn't the first time this has happened. There's been five more."

"Five!" Doyle's voice rose a note or two in alarm, "This thing's killed six people in total?"

Angel nodded, his face grim, "And we're going to stop it before it hits seven." 

* * *

As darkness fell over the City of Angels, a tense atmosphere settled as well. It was as if the inhabitants that walked the rain-drenched streets could feel the fear in the air and were keeping themselves in doors. Angel could almost smell the emotion in the air, and it smelt musty.

"Penny for them?" Yeva stepped up next to him, joining his gaze at the landscape outside of the window, "It's looks so much prettier at night, you wouldn't even guess at what goes on out there, wouldn't you?"

He gave her a lopsided smirk, "You'd be surprised."

She returned the smile, "I guess you've seen quite a bit in your line of business. And I suppose the whole vampire thing adds a twist on your everyday perspective."

"Is it that obvious?" He briefly toyed with the idea of changing his look, to see if that helped. Maybe dye his hair blonde? The idea made him smile again.

"You smell undead," Yeva's comment dragged him back from his thoughts. "I've never seen a zombie with such a good complexion before." This time he laughed and turned away from the window to lean on the ledge.

"And you?" he asked. "Have you always known about your other half?" He inwardly winced as soon as he said it out loud, recalling Doyle's distain when discussing his demon heritage. He was afraid he might have overstepped the mark, but she didn't seem to mind the prod,

"No, it came about around twelve years ago, I was pretty young and I think that helped me adjust better. Nowadays I'm thankful for what it's given me." Her voice sounded soft, almost wistful.

"Sounds nice." The pair looked up abruptly from where Doyle's voice drifted across the room as he stood in the doorway.

Yeva caught his hard stare, "It was."

Angel took the cue to leave, knowing that Doyle wanted to hear more, but wasn't ready to speak in front of an audience.

He moved swiftly, gathering his coat. "I'm going to check in with Kate, see if she's heard anything else about the new crime scene" He grabbed his coat and left, casting a quick supportive glance at the other man before shutting the door behind him.

Once he was gone, the two hybrids stood for a moment, weighing the other up. For Doyle, he found himself becoming irritated at the mere presence of the girl, as if her easy acceptance of her heritage was a personal affront to his own difficulties.

She spoke quietly, as if reading his thoughts, "I have a nagging suspicion that there's something you find uncomfortable about me."

He answered quickly, "I wouldn't say that."

She replied, just as fast. "What would you say then?"

He stepped further into the room, one hand reaching back to rub the back of his neck, while the other rested firmly in his pocket.

She gave him time to find the right words and for a second, he was thankful. Struggling to keep the frustration out of his voice, he finally voiced the question that was really eating at him, "Weren't you angry? I mean, with your parents, for not telling you? All the time you were growing up, they hid it from you. How old were you? Twelve? Thirteen?"

"Nineteen," she replied.

For a second he was silent and he found himself thinking, _"She's older than she looks."_

She continued, "It wasn't easy I'll admit but I couldn't get angry, even if I wanted to. My mother had died when I was a baby and my father thought it would be easier if I believed she was human. After all, I looked normal, so he had hoped I would never need to find out."

He processed the information, mapping his own childhood alongside hers. "I had a similar experience." He hoped the tone in his voice told her that was all she needed to know.

"And are you still angry? With your parents?" There was a moment as he regarded the other half-demon, a desire for the truth etched on her oval face.

He found himself speaking the truth, for once in his life, "Yes. And so should you be. You just said, your father lied to you, deceived you! You go through life happy as anything and then suddenly, someone drops a bomb on you and expects you to deal with it. It messes up everything and there's not a thing you can do about it."

The half-smile on her face vanished. "Your problem is not with me Doyle. I've handled my demons and made the best of my life. If you're looking for someone to blame for your own life, then you need to look closer to home."

"Thanks for the tip." His voice sounded petulant but he didn't care – he wasn't going to be lectured by someone he hardly knew.

Her face turned stony at his outburst, "Well, that's all you're getting from me. I've got my own problems, in case you hadn't noticed."

She turned back to face the window, arms crossed. He felt a pang of guilt; he was getting testy about something from the past he couldn't do a thing about while this girl was trying to escape a horrific death at the hands of a killer demon.

Swallowing his anger, he mumbled an apology to her back.

"Forget about it." She turned to him, features relaxed and the familiar smile returned, "I fancy a coffee, you want one?"

Her sudden change in mood took him by surprise and he found himself smiling. "You fancy our coffee?" he asked, trying a light laugh, a joke to ease the tension, which he fully expected to fall flat.

"Actually I was thinking the deli round the corner, my treat?" She smiled. Apparently, he was forgiven.

Doyle paused for a second as Cordelia face suddenly flashed into his mind and another swirl of guilt rose in his stomach. But then a little voice piped up from somewhere in the back of his head, _'It is only coffee...'_

_

* * *

_

_Again, sorry for the delay. I'm writing as much as free time allows. However, reviews always help to speed up the process - I welcome all constructive feedback, suggestions, opinions, etc...  
_


	4. Coffee and Conflict

_Sorry for the delay! Hopefully the New Year will give me a kick in the right direction and I will start updating on a more regular basis._

_Constructive feedback is welcome as always and for the disclaimer, please see chapter one._

* * *

The air was clear after the storm. A fresh breeze drifted in from the ocean, amazingly strong despite the typical polluted smell that hung above the city. Doyle and Yeva had picked up their coffee and decided to walk the long way back to the offices, not willing to leave the twilight sky behind just yet.

"Have you killed many demons?" The statement from Yeva made Doyle laugh out loud; the topic seemed so out of place on an evening like this.

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to look humble, "Some, I mean, not me personally but Angel's clocked up a few. I've seen him take down some nasties since we teamed up and he always comes out with barely a scratch on him."

"Wow, he's pretty tough then" Her eyes glistened with hope and she turned her head away, embarrassed.

Doyle caught the look and placed a reassuring hand on her arm "Hey, we'll beat this. You'll be okay."

The eyes looked back at him, wide and quivering, "Can you promise?"

"No." She looked crushed, understandably but Doyle pressed on, "But we'll do our best, whatever happens."

Yeva smiled and pushed his arm aside, lingering slightly on his hand. A lump formed in Doyle's throat and he found himself smiling in return.

They moved on ahead, progressing only a few steps before a large clawed hand appeared from nowhere and plucked the young girl off the street. Her scream bounced off the walls, pounding into Doyle's ears as he cried out and dashed down the passage after her.

The demon had one of his hulking arms wrapped around her neck and was half dragging, half carrying her into the shadows. Doyle tore down the alley and threw himself at the beast, grabbing its arm and attempting to pry it away from the girl.

"Let go of her!" His valiant effort was quickly dealt with as the monster swung out with its free hand and belted him round the face, scattering sparks across his eyes.

He felt the familiar tinge as the blue spikes erupted from his face and the demon strength that came with his other half raced through his body. He took another swing and this time felt a satisfied crack as it connected with the demon's chin.

Before it could fully recover, Yeva bit down on the hand that held her and the demon finally released her. Knowing that there was little they could do again the huge beast, Doyle grabbed her hand and ran. Back into the harsh light of the street lamps and back into relative safety. But the monster behind them was faster and they were snatched up by the collars of their clothes and lifted cleanly off the ground.

"You won't get away this time" For the first time the hulking creature spoke, the gravely, rumble of a voice reaching Doyle's ears as he struggled against the grip.

He realised quickly that the demon's attention was focused solely on Yeva but, before he could formulated a plan, it tossed him aside into the wall, dazing him briefly.

"Doyle!" Yeva's scream echoed through his fractured brain. He wasn't going to let it kill her.

He shook the spots away from his eyes and ran back into the fray. This time he leapt onto the creature's back, wrapping his arms around its neck and clung on for dear life. It roared again, flinging itself around in an attempt to dislodge its attacker.

Doyle was almost hopeful that he was making ground until the demon reached over and landed a large hand on his back, dragging him off and once again sending him airborne towards the wall. He lay for a moment, temporarily stunned and helpless as it reached into a pouch hanging from his tattered clothes and removed a piece of crumbled parchment.

"I will get what is mine!" It lifted Yeva closer to its growling face and snarled.

Doyle caught the terrified look in her eyes and realised that there was nothing he could do. His heart was thundering in his ears and there was a sickening roll in his stomach and he prepared himself to watch this young girl died right in front of him.

When the familiar blur of Angel's coat flew past him, a dizzying wave of relief washed over him and he almost laughed in celebration. The vampire tackled the demon, prying its arm away from Yeva and setting the girl loose, pushing her away from the threat and putting himself in harm's way.

The scroll was still hanging in the demon's grip and Angel was sharp enough to know that it was something he should relieve the beast of. Feigning a punch, he ducked the creature's heavy swing and snatched the parchment away, invoking a raw cry from the demon who charged straight at him. But Angel was wiser and had the bruises to prove it, he easily sidestepped the charge and it crashed into the brick wall. Using the momentary break, he called back to Doyle who was standing shakily next to a sobbing Yeva.

"Go! Get out of here!" Doyle nodded and began pulling the girl away.

Angel knew what he had to do now – make a better target. As the creature picked itself up off the floor, he let out a sharp whistle.

"Hey Sunshine! Looking for this?" Angel held up the scroll like a red rag and as the demon began its charge, roaring and foaming at the mouth, the vampire turned and ran like he had never ran before.


	5. One Wild Night

Once again, sorry for the delays. I'll simply say that more reviews mean faster updates! ;-)

For Disclaimer – See chapter one.

* * *

Cordelia was used to getting her own way.

Despite her shaky start in L.A, she'd soon found her feet, surviving and thriving in her new surroundings. Yes, she eventually got what she wanted.

She wanted a job and she got one, she wanted a car, so she borrowed Angel's, and she had wanted an apartment, and with some help she got it. But therein lay her current itch.

She'd made out she didn't want something, or someone; made it painfully clear on several occasions but now that someone was out having coffee with someone who wasn't her. Not that she cared of course; it was simply because she believed it was rude to just leave someone, stuck at the office, without so much as a note.

After all, she'd only stepped out for a minute, to take a peek in the shops before they shut, not that she could afford anything but still…

As she sat under her little grey cloud, Cordelia nearly leapt out of her skin when the current thorn in her heart suddenly crashed through the door, looking distinctly dishevelled and panting heavily. Instinctively she leapt out of her chair and unconsciously reached towards him, her movement interrupted at the last second by another figure pushing through the door,

"Cordelia! It's back! It attacked us" Yeva seemed in a similar state to Doyle, sweat trickling down her forehead.

"Oh God, are you okay?" Cordelia's question was directed at Doyle but it was intercepted by Yeva.

"Yeah, Angel turned up in the nick of time. He led it away so we could escape" Yeva's eyes were wild and her hands shook by her sides.

"Angel's still out there?" Doyle nodded and Cordelia caught the determined look in his eyes, "You're going after him?" She asked.

He nodded, "I have to."

Yeva's eyes grew even wider, if that were possible, "Doyle, you can't! It'll kill you."

The Irishman shrugged off their concern, determination etched into his face. "Someone has to watch his back. You two stay here, lock the doors and go down to the apartment" There were collective cries of outrage from both girls but there wasn't time to argue, "Do it!"

* * *

'_It's fast! It's damn fast!'_

If Angel's heart could beat, it would have been pounding. The last slivers of sunset had dissipated and now the vampire was hurtling through the near-pitch dark alleyways of L.A's underbelly.

Ordinarily, the fast-paced running wouldn't have bothered him all that much. After all, he'd jumped across thirty storey roofs just as quickly before. But in all fairness, he hadn't had a huge, very angry, half-dressed demon thundering after him.

The scroll was still clutched tightly in his hand, the fragile paper tearing slightly under his grip as he raced on.

'_So, now what do I do?'_

That was a good point. He'd managed to get the demon away from Doyle and Yeva but now what was he going to do? They hadn't found a way to kill it yet and Angel wasn't entirely sure brute strength would win out on this one.

If he could just have a minute to catch his breath, figuratively speaking, and then maybe he could come up with something. He clamped down on the paper in his hand again, feeling it rip under his fingers…

There was another roar, closer this time and Angel sped up. No point having a plan if you're in pieces…

He rounded the next corner, eyes searching the gathering dark for the key to his formulating plan. Up ahead flashed a steady stream of light, the thundering of the freight train and occasional horns blaring marred the night's silence.

Checking his footing, Angel suddenly halted and spun to one side in time to see the demon fly past him a good metre to two before it too slowed and turned.

"Hey big fella' Looking for this?" Angel held up the tattered parchment, drawing the beast's gaze; a deep growl emanating from its throat.

"Return that to me vampire." Angel had to admit he was surprised when the creature spoke, it's perchance for using its claws rather than conversation none withstanding.

Angel found his voice pretty quickly, "Not going to happen. You see, I have a problem with people who try and kill me and so I'm typically reluctant to do them any favours."

The demon growled, "Then you will die."

Angel sighed, "Been there, done that. And would it kill you to use some better lines, I mean….cliché?"

The demon quickly tired of Angel's attempt at wit and charged, claws extended and mouth agape. The vampire easily dodged the move, having caught up on the monster's techniques and style of attack.

To an innocent bystander, it might have almost looked like a macabre bull fight, Angel dangling the scroll at arm's length and nimbly sidestepping the sweeps and leaps.

The beast began to slow, its breath coming out in clouds in the damp air, "You can't protect her forever. This will end."

"Just try and keep up Tinkerbell." Angel retorted. But the monster was right on one thing, it was time to finish this battle. The vampire turned and sped again towards the train tracks.

The beast followed dutifully, as expected, as Angel hopped across the rails and led the creature on a merry dance back and forth. As the next train approached Angel realised it was too much to hope that the demon would stay still and get squashed, the noise of the train too loud to ignore.

Apparently the demon thought the same, "You intend to crush me?"

"Nope," Angel replied. The train reached their position and continuing along its path, carriage after carriage streaming past. It was just as the last car few flew past Angel that he lifted his arm and rather casually tossed the scroll into one of the storage coaches, a smile playing across his lips, "Go fetch!"

The demon roared, rounding on Angel as the train disappeared into the night, "You don't know what you've done!"

"Well, that's me for you, always far too impulsive for my own good" Angel tensed, expecting another furious attack but was at a loss for words when the beast simply turned and sloped away, following the direction of the retreating train.

"What? No comeback?" Angel shouted into the darkness.


	6. Chilled

Wow! Two updates in one week! I feel proud of myself. Please let me know what you think of the story so far. I'm always happy to receive constructive comments.

For disclaimer, see chapter one. I own nothing.

Doyle had a horrible feeling that he'd just made a really huge mistake. A really massive, catastrophic, possibly apocalyptic mistake.

'_I've just left Cordelia and Yeva in a room together…alone'_

He'd known as soon as he'd crashed through the door that he was in trouble, he could read Cordelia's pinched expression straight away and a lump had formed in his throat.

'_I knew I shouldn't have gone for that coffee.'_

Although, he had to admit, it was nice coffee, and nice company. And Cordelia had turned him down countless times before, so technically he hadn't done anything wrong. But if that was the case…why did he feel so crummy?

Another pang of guilt washed over him as he checked his thoughts and remembered that he was supposed to be rushing to help his friend who was currently battling a seven-foot monstrosity.

'_In my next life, I just know I'm coming back as a nit comb.'_

Thankfully, Doyle was granted a reprieve from his self-pity, as he turned a corner and barrelled straight into a solid black shape, tripping over his own feet in an attempt to step back and instead ending up on his rear.

"Nice to see you too Doyle," Angel's amused tone earned him an irritated glare from the Irishman.

"I take it you dispatched our demon friend?" Doyle mumbled from the ground.

"Not exactly." The vampire reached down and helped the other man to his feet and they began walking back to the offices.

"What do you mean?" Doyle asked, "Either you did or you didn't?"

Angel shrugged, or it might have been just another brooding pose, Doyle couldn't tell anymore. "Well, if you want to get pedantic, I didn't"

"Great!" Doyle huffed, "Do you want to tell the girls or should I?"

"Calm down, I've bought us some time I think. At least long enough to end this permanently." Angel pushed open the door leading into Angel Investigations and shook his hair free of the rain.

Doyle hung back slightly, half expecting Yeva and Cordelia to be engaged in a massive cat-fight, splitting and screaming. Without his say-so, the images in his head suddenly shifted towards hot oil wrestling and pillow fights. Now there was an idea...

His fantasies were cut short but a heavy silence in the office instead. Angel headed straight for the back room to grab a towel and Doyle found himself leaning against the desk, with Cordelia on one side and Yeva on the other, both firing questions at him immediately.

"Whoa! Hold on ladies, Angel's the one that fought the beastie, not me! Ask him!"

Cordelia jabbed a finger into his arm, "Angel can take care of himself, you doofus! What were you thinking, going up against that thing?"

Yeva came up on his left, "Is it coming back? Did Angel kill it? What's happened Doyle?"

Doyle looked despairingly at Angel who had come and stood in the office doorway, a towel draped round his shoulders. The vampire took his cue to intervene on Doyle's behalf.

"It's okay for now. The demon won't be back for a while, trust me."

That seemed to calm to the two girls and Doyle felt a pang of jealousy that he couldn't command that kind of respect.

Yeva flopped down on the battered leather couch and rubbed her face in her hands, "So, what now?"

There was a few moments of silence before Doyle's Irish lilt filled the air, "Anyone fancy a stiff drink?"

The bar was, in Angel's opinion, one of the least detestable he had been in since moving to L.A. It had one of those old-world feels to it, like that place in _Cheers_. The bar stools had tape on the cushions and the smell of peanuts and beer hung thickly in the air.

So, it wasn't nineteenth century or anything but it was a definite improvement on the places he was usually dragged to. At least it didn't have that awful throbbing music blasting out and drunken kids throwing up on your shoes.

They were sitting together at a table near the window, each lost of a moment in their own thoughts. Understandably, neither of the girls had been too thrilled to learn that the demon had not been killed but Angel had a pretty good feeling that without the scroll. The demon was stopped for now, which would at least give them time to formulate a decent plan B.

Doyle had wondered what could have been so important about the parchment in the first place and Yeva had seemed rather upset that Angel hadn't kept hold of it.

"_It might have told us something about it. You shouldn't have let it go" She cried. _

"_It's okay. By the time our demon finds the train and comes back, we'll be ready, right Angel?" Cordelia added._

"_Sure, and when it does, we'll be ready." Angel assured._

They'd come to a small bar near the docklands that Doyle had promised would be virtually empty and suitably quiet for a quick drink. He hadn't lied; the place was pretty much deserted with only a few regulars dotted along the stained bar.

"Oh, this is so dark and musty, why didn't we just stay in the office?" Cordelia's sarcasm was not lost on any of them seated around the table but thankfully her heart didn't really seem to be in it, everyone was too busy with their own thoughts to say anything.

Doyle, in usual form, was attempting to lighten the mood, "I don't know, it's kinda' homely" He did seem to be thoroughly enjoying himself, a pint of ale resting before him, already half-drained.

Next to him Yeva sat twirling an ice cube lazily in her drink with her index finger, "Reminds me of home. Small towns with small crowds. I used to think it was so dull but there's something warming about places like that, not like this city, with everyone out for something.

"Hey," Cordelia seemed to take personal offence at the comment.

"Sorry, just thinking out loud. Guess that's what happens when you've got a large homicidal demon on your tail." This statement removed the scowl from Cordelia's face.

Yeva continued, unaware, "Feels like the world is out to get you sometimes doesn't it? Most of us can't fit in with the humans and those that do still have to worry about those pure-blood types that can't leave well enough alone."

"Makes you glad to be alive eh?" Doyle quipped.

She gave a half-smile, "Yeah, and I'm lucky to get one of the nastiest pure-bloods around by the looks of it. Hunts us down, rips us to pieces and for no other reason than how we were born. All those half-breeds are dead, all because they didn't fit with someone else's plan of how the world should work."

The bar seemed to quiet at her words, each person lost in their own thoughts about the world and its faults.

Cordelia broke the oppressive mood, "I'm still a little sketchy on the whole 'demons killing demons' thing. You're the same as them, so why have they got such a problem? What's the difference?"

"There's quite a difference Cordelia." Doyle murmured.

Angel looked up at Doyle's comment. There was a note of something dark in the other man's voice but the Cordelia didn't seem to pick up on it. Her friend's demon heritage was at the moment a closely guarded secret and it was becoming apparent to Angel that it couldn't stay that way for much longer.

It was something that the vampire intended on getting to the bottom of at some point, even if it involved consuming vast amounts of whiskey with the Irishman to do it.

Yeva spoke up once more, eyes still fixed on the glass in front of her, "It's not like any of us asked to be like this. Believe me. But I'd rather be proud of who I am than hide it. If I did that, what kind of person would I be then?"

Yeva seemed to sense the tension in Doyle as she spoke, but ignored it. It was clear in her eyes that her statement held more than words.

Another awkward pause and Doyle stood up abruptly, "I need some air."

He was up and out the door before anyone could really take it in. Cordelia made the move to follow but a soft hand stayed her motion.

"Let me," Yeva gave a short nod to Angel before following the path of Doyle outside into the damp, poorly-lit street.

As she left the bar, Yeva noted that Doyle hadn't gone far, only about ten feet before stopping and leaning heavily against a nearby dumpster. Slowly she walked down the few concrete steps that led away from the entrance and stopped at the bottom, unwilling to crowd the man in front of her.

'_Not just a man'_ she thought to herself.

"I'm sorry," She said. It sounded flat and she winced inwardly. "I just find it hard to understand why you hide it from her. I thought she was your friend?"

"She is" Doyle whispered. "I'm not ready to tell her" He looked as if that was all he needed to say.

"Well, I think you should give her more credit." Yeva gestured back to the bar with a flick of her head. "A girl like that could probably handle the end of the world better than any of us."

Doyle laughed, the sudden noise echoing down the quiet street, "Funnily enough, she has. But this…" He looked uncomfortable again.

Yeva smiled softly, "I get it, I do. It took me a while to adjust too. Bit of a shock, isn't it, finding out everything you thought you were is a lie."

He laughed again, "Too bloody right."

She echoed his laugh, "Well, it was the same over here in 'Camp Yeva' too you know. A change like that, it knocks you for six, and you know you'll never be the same again."

There was a second or two of silence, both parties waiting for the other to make a move. Feeling the need to make some room for the both of them, Yeva moved back, leaning against the railings of the stairway.

"So, are we cool?" A lump formed in her throat and she ducked her eyes, staring at the floor.

"Yeah, we're cool." He smiled.

"Good, because I'd hate to face Cordelia if I'd upset you." Yeva looked up, expecting to share a half-hearted laugh but Doyle's gaze was fixed, staring straight ahead, the muscles in his face tense and his body shaking.


	7. Breadcrumbs and blood drops

AN: Sorry for the delay, life got in the way of my writing.

Disclaimer: See chapter one. 

* * *

Angel wondered how much longer he could appear interested in the soggy paper umbrella he was twirling between his fingers without Cordelia guessing that he wasn't really paying attention to her ramblings.

Not surprisingly, she hadn't really taken to their new client and was currently picking Yeva's fashion choices apart bit by bit. He reckoned that it wasn't anything personal against the hybrid, but really it was down the fact that right now, she was very aware it wasn't herself consoling Doyle in a dark alley at the moment.

"I mean, wedge shoes with flared jeans? That is so 1996!" Cordelia's voice had reached a new pitch and it stirred the vampire from his own thoughts.

Angel could tell her heart wasn't really in it, but if it made her happy for now…

"You know what I mean right?" She continued. A second or two later he realised she was addressing him and opened his mouth to make out some lame reply. However, the sudden bang of a door diverted both their attentions before he could answer.

"Angel, Cordelia, come quick!" Yeva was in and out in a heartbeat, leaving the door wide open for the other two to follow.

Outside, they hurried down the few steps to kneel next to a very still Doyle. He was lying on his back near the stairwell, blood matted across one side of his head; eyes closed.

For a terrifying second Angel thought the worst, horrified at the sight of Doyle's pale face clashing against the deep red smeared down his cheek. But the next rational thought the vampire had forced him to check his friend's pulse and the knot in his stomach relaxed.

"He's breathing."Angel said to no one in particular.

"What happened?" Cordelia demanded of Yeva, while Angel cast a quick glance around in case their hulking demon friend had made a return appearance.

Yeva was wringing her hands and withered under Cordelia's harsh stare.

She stammered out a reply, the words rushing out at once, "I don't know! We were talking and all of a sudden he just went…weird! Started shaking and his eyes rolled back, I thought he was having a seizure! I'm sorry; I didn't know what to do and then he fell and hit his head on the stair there."

Angel turned to where she had pointed, the faint gleam of blood drops visible on the stone steps, "He was having a vision." Angel deducted.

The statement seemed to bring Yeva back to the here and now and she crouched down beside him, "Vision?"

Angel nodded, "He has visions, I'll explain later. We need to get him home."

Cordelia stood up, "His home or yours?"

"Mine, probably best not to leave him alone 'til he wakes up." Angel replied, standing up, heaving the limp form of his friend into his arms. He followed the two girls to the parking lot, still wary of any demon attacks that may still be coming from the dark. 

* * *

Doyle's head wound had not been as bad as it looked and after half an hour of lying on Angel's bed, he had woken, though with a terrible headache and fuzzy memory.

Angel's hopes that the vision would yield more information proved futile; the head injury had clouded Doyle's memory and he couldn't remember anything after the vision had hit. The Irishman had appeared quite distressed by this and so, not wanting him to feel useless, Angel had assigned him and Yeva to research, looking up any ritual or spell that showed any similarities with the murders.

It was a thinly veiled effort but Doyle gladly accepted the chance to be helpful, as did Yeva.

Sitting amongst the piles of books and half-drunk cups of tea, Doyle now felt more like an extra from some old English drama, the kind shown on television on a summer afternoon. Across from where he was seated, Yeva was flicking lazily through one of the large dusty books that were scattered about.

Angel and Cordelia had left about an hour ago, off to glean some information out of some of Angel's contacts. Doyle was now wishing he'd gone with them, if Angel had let him. The enthusiasm he had previously felt at helping their comrades through research had dissolved under mountains of scriptures and scrolls and now the hours of trying to read chicken scratch scrawls had taken their toll.

"Fancy somethin' a little stronger than tea, love?" Doyle asked Yeva, before standing up and cracking his back, feeling the muscles spasm in protest.

"Sure, got any cyanide?" Yeva slammed the book shut with a frustrated grunt. "It's the only way I can see to end all this."

"Seems overwhelming doesn't it." Doyle wandered over to the kitchen and poured two ample amounts of single malt for the both of them. "Angel really needs to work on his filing system in the near future.

"Amen to that." She took the drink and gulped at it greedily, before choking out a strained grin in appreciation. The break seemed to breathe a bit of life into the room and Doyle felt himself relaxing slightly, the first time really since this case had started. 

* * *

Cordelia could be smart, funny and brave and, for an ex-cheerleader valley girl, she could pretty much hold her own against things that would send the average jock running for his mother. But right now, at this very moment, Angel really, really wished she wasn't quite so bold.

"I'll have you know I'm a soon-to-be world famous actress so you better let us in buddy-boy!" She was yelling at the bouncer of one of L.A's less advertised bars, somewhere Angel hoped the clientele will have heard something about the murders, something not in the police reports.

His patience was wearing thin though; this was the sixth bar they'd visited and so far the patrons were either too scared or too drunk to make much sense. The toll was showing on his travelling companion as well and he could have sworn that her voice had gotten shriller with every passing hour. But at least he understood her frustration at the lack of progress they were making. It was starting to grate and it was getting harder and harder not to break down each door they came to, rather than knocking on it.

But still, Cordelia's rant wasn't getting the door open any faster and so with a swift move he placed himself between her and the hulking bouncer, earning himself a protesting squeak from the girl.

"Think about it; let us in and she goes away." Angel whispered. "Believe me; the alternative is leaving her out here with you."

The bouncer's eyes widened slightly, "Go on in." He stepped aside and Angel breezed past, turning only to grab Cordelia's arm before she had time to shoot off any 'witty' remarks.

The doorway led to a set of stairs, dimly lit by a couple of bare bulbs. The smell of stale beer and sweat drifted up from the visible light emanating from the bottom, as well as a few less recognisable scents. This was definitely a demon bar.

However, something felt wrong. It was quiet and there was a tense atmosphere that was almost as thick as the smoke hanging around the ceiling. It was only when he and Cordelia reached the bottom of the stairs that Angel realised what was so wrong with the scene in front of him. All the patrons, the demons, vampires and other assorted creatures, were all seated at one end of the room. Huddled round small tables and crammed around the bar, no one was anywhere near the far side of the room.

No one spoke as the duo walked across the floor. Scoping out the room, Angel noted the door slightly ajar over the other side of the dance floor. There was light coming from inside and the vampire noted how everyone seemed to be purposefully avoiding eye contact with that very door.

"I think we've found what we're looking for." Angel whispered to Cordelia, drawing her attention away from the motley crew at the bar. "Stay close to me."

He walked slowly over to the door, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room burning into the back of his head. Cordelia had her hand on his back, not pushing but just checking he was close, keeping her safe. With a quick glance back to reassure his partner, Angel pushed open the door... 

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_Please review – they keep me sane and writing..._


	8. Firewater

_Apologises for the delay. Just started a new job and had to move, but anyway enough with excuses...on with the story!  
_

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The demon was drunk! And not only drunk, but doing a good impression of weeping as well. Angel found himself shaking his head in disbelief, unable to actually move from the doorway of the basement. However, a hard shove soon helped him get his legs moving and Cordelia barged into the room, her ponytail swishing in impatience.

"You have got to be kidding me!" She cried, taking in the scene of a hulking red demon huddled over an empty wine bottle, sobbing. For a moment fear clutched Angel's motionless heart as the beast turned and stared through watery eyes at Cordelia's outburst, but as it turned out, he needn't have worried.

"Go 'way!" The deep gravelly voice remained but in place of the usual thundering tone, there was only a slurred whine instead, "Don't wana fight no more."

"Well, you better get over it mister!" At this point Cordelia seemed to take check of herself and moved back behind Angel before continuing her rant, "Cause Angel's going to kick your murderous butt!"

As the demon started to stand up, Angel again felt himself wishing that Cordelia wasn't quite so bold...

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The whiskey bottle was nearly empty, something which saddened Doyle immensely. The other one was upstairs under Cordelia's desk and he really couldn't be bothered getting up to get it. Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion that he'd had enough already. Looking over at his companion, he smiled when he saw she was in a similar state. Yeva was attempting to make a spoon stick to her nose, making herself cross-eyed in the process.

"I'd quit while you're ahead." He chuckled.

She stuck her tongue out in response, "I've done this before; it's this spoon, it's all wrong!"

"Hey, don't go blaming our spoons my dear, I like those spoons." He retorted. The topic of the conversation sunk in and they both erupted in laughter.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Yeva leaned over and whispered in a conspiring tone, "Is Angel going to be mad we got drunk?

Doyle snorted out a laugh, "No way. We have very good excuses. I'm injured and you're the client. Problem solved!"

She grinned in response, "We hybrids have got to stick together, right?" She gestured a salute with her glass but stopped when he didn't reciprocate, "What?"

He dropped his eyes to the near-empty glass in his hands. "How do you do that?"

She frowned but didn't look away, "Do what?"

He gave a shrug, still refusing to meet her gaze, "That, acting like we're normal, just like everyone else."

Her frown softened to a smile and she inched her chair closer to his, "Because we are. We breathe, we eat, we cry and we die. Everyone does it; we just do it with two different faces."

He rolled his eyes at her comment, "So, we carry on as if there was nothing unusual about spikes popping out of our faces?" He could feel his face getting hot under her gaze, uncomfortable about talking so openly about something he had kept hidden for so long. In the brief silence while he thought, Doyle hadn't even realised she had placed her hand on his knee and was smiling gently at him.

"I don't have spikes. We live, we deal. In the end it's not going away and I wouldn't want it to either. Not after all I've seen because of it." She tipped the contents of the dark liquid down her throat and hastily poured the last of the whiskey into both of their glasses.

He smirked at her positivity, not cruelly but instead in awe of such a sunny outlook, "It's definitely an eye-opener. I wouldn't say I relished any of it, not then or now. I've learned from it sure, but not enjoyed it."

When Yeva spoke nest her voice was soft, barely a whisper but it echoed around the empty room. "All those moments, all those feelings and emotions that I experience. I never would have had any of it without my other side."

Her words sunk in but the whiskey had dulled Doyle's brain and it took a moment for him to respond, "Emotions? I'm pretty sure you had those before you found out you were half-demon, love."

"Who says I'm talking about the demon side?" The laugh in her voice that had been there previously suddenly dropped. She was being serious.

Without even realising what was happening in front of him, Doyle opened his mouth, "Well, because otherwise that means you were a demon that found out they were…"

His voice died in his throat and, for a second, Doyle thought he was having another vision. Images suddenly flashed up in front of his eyes but the tell-tale migraine was absent, allowing him to see what had happened before…

_The vision hit as he and Yeva stood in the alleyway, his hand gripping the railing with white knuckles. The pain was intense and he felt his back seize up in spasms; the demon was there in his head, screaming. There were flames around him and a strange chant echoed in the background. He was standing over the beast, who was thrashing about in agony. There was blood on the walls and floor and then he saw…he saw what they had missed. He saw who stood over the demon._

_When the vision subsided, his eyes met Yeva's and he knew. "__You killed them." The words barely left his mouth before the blow came and his head connected with the metal handrail. The last thing he saw were Yeva's eyes staring down at him, entirely devoid of emotion._

Back in the now, the realisation was like a thump to the stomach. He swallowed and reigned in his emotions, sparing a glance at the other person in the room, hoping she hadn't noticed the sudden change. Yeva was still staring at him and for a fraction of a second, something got loose.

"Are you okay?" Her tone was mellow, relaxed, no hint of threat…yet.

Doyle put on his best 'I'm-at-ease-and-all-is-right-in-the-world' smile and tried to appear casual whilst quickly making a note of the nearest exit.

"Sure, just tired. I'm not your typical bookworm." The humour in his voice fell flat, the stare of the girl sitting opposite him never breaking for a second.

"No, you're not." There it was. An almost undetectable note of something sinister was hidden in that innocent statement, heightened only by the wide smile plastered across Yeva's face.

He brain kicked into overdrive, words pouring out of his dry mouth unchecked, "I'm thinking of popping out to the store; get myself some…um…more drink. Need something to get the blood flowing." He grimaced inwardly at his own statement, _Bad, bad choice of words!_

"Do you want anything?" He hoped she hadn't noticed the slight tremble in his voice or his attempted shuffle towards the back door. No such luck as it turned out.

"I think we have everything we need Doyle." Yeva mirrored his movement, straying towards his exit and taking on a stance that definitely didn't suggest cosy chatting.

"Are you sure? Well, maybe just some fresh air then…" There wasn't chance to finish his excuse, he saw the hardened look come into Yeva's eyes and realised it was a now-or-never situation.

Hoping that his ramblings had distracted her enough he turned away from the door and bolted for the stairs. A crazed, happy part of his brain was confident that he could reach the door to the offices before Yeva could catch up. However, that part of his brain was quite often very wrong, and the whiskey wasn't helping. A sudden yank at his fleeing legs swept the world out from under him and with a resounding crack, his head bounced off the stone and into darkness.

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_Please review. It makes me smile..._


	9. Rose-Tinted Glasses

_A thousand humble apologies to everyone who was following this story! I'm mortified that I didn't realise I hadn't finished! I have no excuses other than life, the universe and everything and woefully beg your forgiveness_

_I have the last two chapters ready and will update the last one as soon as I've done a few corrections ;) Please, please bear with me and thank you once again for following my little tale_

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The smell of wood varnish and incense slowly pulled Doyle back to the brink of consciousness. He shifted his head, still dazed, and was only rewarded by a pounding in his skull and the contents of his stomach churning. Thankfully the nausea subsided slightly as he woke, enough for his to be able to crack open his heavy lids and try to work out what in the name of St. Paddy was going on.

Something flickered to his right and he reluctantly let his eyes open further, taking in the candles that were scattered about the room. It struck him as funny somehow that, number one, Angel had so many candles in the first place and number two, they weren't yet causing a major fire hazard.

The movement brought his attention to his current state; lying in the middle of the hardwood floor in the semi-darkness with strange bony-looking objects strewn haphazardly around him. The pair of sais that usually adorned Angels' wall were now driven firmed into the floor, the pronged instruments effectively pinning his wrists down and the heavy feeling in his legs led him to believe they were restrained in a similar fashion.

He tried to suppress the rising panic he felt in his chest, images of the previous victims they had uncovered racing, in all graphic detail, through his mind. As the thoughts came and went, he realised just how loud his gasping was and so Yeva's presence above was hardly a shock, but boy, he was sure it looked like one.

She grinned at him; "Comfy?" There was no demon face, no flashing eyes or fangs, just a homely pretty face, almost looking concerned. "Can I get you anything?"

"Yeah, how about a scotch…and maybe a stake?" He hoped his weak threat wouldn't result in her putting her boot through his head, but it was worth a cheap shot after all.

"Silly boy, I'm not a vampire!" she laughed – a high-pitched girlish giggle that sent shivers up and down his spine.

"No?" A lump has formed in his throat.

"No, I'm much more interesting" She moved away from his head and picked up one of the dustier books from the couch.

Doyle knew that whatever she had found in that tome couldn't be good for him and so used to only weapon to hand; his mouth, "Really? Interesting, you say? In what way?"

"You'll find out" She whispered, already lost in the pages of the book.

_So much for that idea…_

She turned away from him as his eyes began scanning for some desperate way out, her voice echoing off the walls, "I'm so glad we decided to research after all, or I never would have found it" She was caressing the pages like a childhood memento, her bound prisoner forgotten for the moment.

"Found what exactly?" The lump in his throat had gotten larger and he was finding it hard to breathe thanks to his rising panic.

"My scripture!" She rolled her eyes, like it was the silliest question in the world. "The scripture Angel lost! I was rather annoyed at that!"

His mouth continued to response to her, unaware that his brain was screaming at him to shut up. "Understandable" That time his wasn't able to keep the tremble from his voice and she caught it; giving him a look of a comforting friend.

"Now, now, don't get upset. It's just the way things are sometimes." For a second there was a look of love and affection on her face before it melted away, revealing cold malice, "Doesn't mean we can't have some fun though, before your friends get back." She moved to stand at his side, placing the book on the nearby coffee table and began pouring a dark brackish looking liquid around him, leaving a glistening circle.

The chanting began so quietly he wasn't even sure it was real, but by and by it got louder, strange words uttered in a long dead tongue. As Yeva moved, some suspicious looking liquids and powders were scattered about, mixing with the incense that already hung heavy in the air.

Doyle's nerves began to overwhelm him and he found himself trying to reason with the petite demon hovering over him, "Any chance we can talk about this? I mean, we were getting along weren't we? Found a connection? You said we were so alike!"

The panic etched in his face must have rung a note with his captor and she appeared to finish her mutterings for the moment. She stepped inside the circle, legs straddling his body and stared down at him, that cold, vicious smile remaining.

She leaned in close and spoke in soft tone, "We are. We were both raised as one thing and found out we were another. You, a human who's become a demon and me, the demon who found humanity all too appealing. You see, I was once one of those 'pure-blood' fanatics, a potential future member of the Scourge. But a chance encounter with a little known and rarely seen hybrid species left me with more humanity than most could handle. At first I was disgusted with myself, ashamed of what it had made me. But over time I grew stronger on it, the perception of the humans allowing me pleasures not known to my kind. It was ecstasy Doyle, pure ecstasy. So when it began to fade, I was devastated. My family was relieved of course but I knew I could never go back to what I was, so I left home to reclaim what I'd lost."

The story was making Doyle's rising nausea all the more urgent.

"You sucked it out of them." He whispered, "Their human side sustains yours so you drained it from them, didn't you?" Her widening grin told him the answer and his swallowed again, "And I'm next."


End file.
